The Aftermath of Freedom
by TXMedic
Summary: Coda story to the episode "The Hostages". Doc has just had to kill two men, Sarge and Caje are wounded...what happens next? Pls R&R.


The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. The lines marked with asterisks are from the episode "The Hostages" written by Richard Adams.  
  
The Aftermath of Freedom  
  
A man's dying is more the survivors' affair than his own.   
  
~Thomas Mann  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Hands. Long slender fingers, dirt covered with abraded knuckles on his right hand. Hands used to heal and comfort.  
  
Hands he'd used to kill.  
  
Kill? His mind skittered away from it. He wasn't there to kill. That's why he'd entered this man's army as a non-combatant. He didn't believe in taking a life. He served his country, but by peaceful means. No, he was there to save lives.not take them.  
  
His hands looked different, somehow. As if covered in blood he couldn't see. The blood of a life he'd taken himself. But there wasn't any blood. He hadn't even used a weapon. Just his hands.  
  
His hands.  
  
A voice from far away penetrated his thoughts. Faint, but insistent.  
  
* "Doc, I'm wounded. Help me."*  
  
Tearing his eyes away from his hands, Doc blinked. Wounded? He dragged himself back to the here-and-now and slowly, hesitantly, moved over to check on Saunders' leg wound. He was off-kilter. Nothing seemed to make sense, but wounds he knew. Wounds he could deal with.  
  
He unbuckled the sergeant's boot and started to raise the trouser leg, then realized what he was doing. What was he doing? The Sarge had been hit in the thigh, not the lower leg. Shaking his head, hoping to clear away the fog, Doc scooted up by Saunders' hip and widened the hole made by the bullet from Saunders' own Thompson. It didn't look too bad, all things considered. The bone didn't appear to be broken, and there wasn't any profuse bleeding so if they were lucky, the femoral hadn't been touched.  
  
Of course, if he'd been quicker, maybe the Sarge wouldn't have been hit. Or if he'd done a better job when trying to throw that German out of the truck, things would've turned out differently. Or if he hadn't cracked his head on the windshield, he would've been able to do something about the German after the accident. Maybe. There were too many 'or's, too many 'what if's.  
  
Maybe he should've told the XO what was going on in the first place.  
  
Thinking about all the possibilities made his head throb. All he was sure of was he'd made a colossal mess of the whole thing. Caje and Saunders had depended on him to make the right choices to get them safely out of the Germans' hands.and he'd gotten them both wounded.  
  
He'd caused the death of two men, and the injuries of two more. And now he had to figure out how to get both injured men back to the village. His decisions that day left a lot to be desired. It didn't leave him with much confidence in his ability to make the right choice this time.  
  
As he finished tying the bandage, retrieved from the dead Aptmeyer, over the wound on Saunders' leg, Doc could feel the sergeant's penetrating gaze. He used his bandage scissors to cut the belt that bound Saunders' hands together. Avoiding the Sarge's eyes, he stood, leaned down and helped the wounded man to his feet.  
  
Without a word, his thoughts already a mile away, Doc pulled the Saunders' arm across his shoulders and took the wounded man's weight as they made their way slowly back to where they'd left Caje.  
  
The boom of artillery still echoed from the west, and Doc briefly wondered if it sounded a little closer. Not that he needed something else to worry about. He was already agonizing over how he was going to get help for Saunders and Caje. He couldn't take them both. He wasn't even sure he could get Caje back to the village by himself without causing further injury to his friend. Even if he could, it would take twice as long and the whole time Saunders would be left behind and in danger. If he took Saunders, Caje might die of shock before he got back.  
  
Though the medic hadn't uttered a word since jumping the German officer, Saunders could hazard a guess as to what was running through Doc's head. Killing your first enemy soldier affected every man, but it had to have been worse for a man who'd dedicated himself to helping others. On top of that, Doc was probably second-guessing himself about the choices he'd made along the way.  
  
Saunders was briefly sidetracked by that thought. Just how did Doc get that ambulance, anyway? His thoughts were brought back to the moment when they came out of the trees and Saunders could see Caje sitting propped up against the tree where they'd left him. The sergeant wanted nothing more at the moment than to join him. His leg throbbed with every limping step.  
  
When they reached Caje, Saunders was relieved to see the wounded man still awake. Although he was pale, and his face was showing his pain, Caje was alive. Saunders bit back a groan when Doc helped him sit down next to the wounded Cajun. Resting his back against the rough bark of the tree, the sergeant rolled his head to give Caje an encouraging smile.  
  
"You doing okay, Caje?"  
  
Shifting a little to make room for Saunders, Caje squeezed his eyes shut as Doc began checking his splinted leg. Opening his eyes after taking a deep breath, Caje looked from the silent medic to Saunders, curiosity winning over the pain. "What happened to the captain? How'd you get hit?"  
  
"Capt. Aptmeyer had intended to use the two of us to find a safe way across a minefield. We didn't think much of that idea. Aptmeyer gave me an ultimatum and when I didn't do what he wanted, he shot me. Probably would've killed me, but Doc jumped him. Aptmeyer dropped the gun, they fought, Doc.he didn't have any choice. The captain's dead."  
  
"Good."  
  
Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say, but that was how Caje felt. He was glad the German SS officer was dead. An eye for an eye. Payment for the death of Barnarbo. The way Doc's hands stopped what they were doing told Caje the medic wasn't as happy about it. Caje looked at Saunders with a puzzled frown. The sergeant gave a small shake of his head and closed his eyes briefly with weariness.  
  
Wincing when he shifted his leg, Saunders shrugged his Thompson off his shoulder and laid it across his knees. He finally managed to catch Doc's gaze and sighed. The medic's normally expressive face was a mask. Whatever he was feeling, Doc was keeping it buried for the moment. First things, first.  
  
"Doc-"  
  
"I know, Sarge." Sitting back on his heels, Doc ran a hand through his hair. "I have to leave you guys here and go for help. I'll be as quick as I can."  
  
"It's the only way."  
  
"I know, I just wish.I should've.never mind."  
  
With one more sorrowful glance at Caje, once again wishing he had more medical supplies than what he'd shoved in his pockets that morning, the medic rose to his feet and wavered a moment. Blinking away the momentary dizziness, he waved off the look of concern from Saunders. He broke into a jog back up the road the way they'd come, trying not to look at the body of Echtman as he passed. He wondered if that motorcycle MP was still patrolling the road.  
  
He hadn't yet given a thought to the confusion he'd left behind in the village.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Meningitis!  
  
The linesman ran back to his buddy with a look of horror on his face, the very name of the deadly disease lending him speed. He didn't want to have anything to do with that barbershop. Scrambling back up to the roof, he watched the ambulance disappear around a corner.  
  
"Hey, what's the matter Avery?"  
  
Unconsciously rubbing his palms on his trousers, Avery looked up at his partner in disbelief. "That medic I borrowed the lighter from was loadin' a couple o' guys into an ambulance. I asked him about it and some sergeant told me those two guys have meningitis. Says they'll have to fumigate that whole place."  
  
"Meningitis?" Shielding his eyes, Avery's partner looked over at the barbershop. Something screwy was going on. "Shouldn't they put a quarantine sign or something on the door? You know.keep anybody from goin' in there before it's fumigated?"  
  
He had a point. Avery was sure something strange was happening in that little French shop. "Maybe I should go ask somebody about it. Hey Charlie, keep an eye on the place, will ya? Make sure nobody goes in."  
  
Just in case those guys really did have meningitis.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
With a sigh, Hanley untangled his long legs from the jeep he'd hitched a ride in to get back to headquarters for King Company. Lt. Hanley was certain that if he got killed during the war, it would be in an accident. It seemed all he did these days was drive back and forth between headquarters and battalion.  
  
Removing his helmet, Hanley stepped through the door and released a sigh. He hoped the XO didn't have anything urgent for him to deal with. He desperately needed a few minutes of peace.  
  
He barely got through the door before the 1st Sergeant started rattling of messages. "You have a meeting with the Exec at 1800hrs, ah, he stepped out about twenty minutes ago. Ah, he wants you also to send out a patrol to sector Bravo tonight at 2100 to confirm movement to the west. Also, here's a kinda strange thing: Doc came in here wanting to talk to you, 'cause he said Saunders needed a truck. I told him you weren't here, but he could talk to the new Exec and he just left. He looked real worried about something."  
  
"Why would Saunders need a truck?" Frowning thoughtfully, Hanley checked his watch. The meeting with the new XO was only two hours away. "Send for Saunders. If you can't find him, get one of the other guys in here."  
  
"Yes sir." Lifting a pile of folders from his desk, the 1st Sergeant gave Hanley an apologetic smile. "Ah, these need your John Hancock, sir."  
  
Taking the stack of files, Hanley winced at the weight. This would take him hours. "Perfect. Come rescue me when you find Saunders."  
  
Hanley headed into the office, the sergeant's soft chuckle making him grimace in annoyance. Keep chuckling Laughing Boy. I'm sure I can find some odious task to wipe that smile off your face.  
  
Lt. Hanley hadn't been through many of the files when he glanced up to see the 1st Sergeant poking his head around the doorframe. "I found three of Saunders' men, Lieutenant. You want to see them now?"  
  
"Send them in, Sergeant."  
  
Sliding the unfinished reports to the side, Hanley leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs under the desk. When the three soldiers stepped through the door, Hanley waved them closer. At least Kirby, Nelson and Littlejohn had been found. "Have any of you see Sergeant Saunders?"  
  
The three men exchanged worried glances then shook their heads. Kirby was the first to voice the obvious question. "Haven't seen him, Lieutenant. Is he missing?"  
  
Sitting up and leaning forward, Lt. Hanley picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk. "We're not sure yet. Seems Doc came in here trying to get a truck for Saunders, and I'd like to know where your sergeant is and why he needed a truck. Look around and see if you can round up Saunders, Doc or Caje."  
  
Kirby shrugged, darting a glance over his shoulder at Littlejohn. Something was going on. "Sure, Lieutenant. They've gotta be around here somewhere."  
  
"Then go find them, Private."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
Lt. Hanley allowed a small smile, shaking his head, as the three soldiers all but ran from the room. The smile slipped from his face, however, when he let his thoughts shift back to the missing sergeant. If anybody had a knack for finding trouble.it was Sgt. Saunders.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Adjusting the strap once more, Kirby settled the BAR so that it finally stopped chaffing his neck. If it wasn't the strap, it was the collar of his wool uniform. Once more, Kirby swore to himself that if he every made it home from this extended hell, he'd never again wear wool.  
  
Rubbing the sweat from the back of his neck, Kirby thought longingly of bathing with the cake of soap Sgt. Saunders was rumored to have. If they could just find the Sarge, that is. Kirby spotted the towering frame of Littlejohn and jogged across the street to catch up to his squad-mate.  
  
"Hey, Littlejohn. You seen the Sarge?"  
  
Pushing his helmet back, Littlejohn frowned down at Kirby. "Not a sign. Billy's checking the next street, and all I got was that the Sarge was with Doc and Cage. Haven't seen hide nor hair of those two, either."  
  
"Swell. We could be sittin' around, taking it easy, but here we are wearin' out our boot leather looking for the Sarge. Wonder what Hanley wants with the Sarge, anyway?"  
  
"I just hope it's not a mission."  
  
"Nah, we just got through takin' this village. Hell, they're still trying to catch a few snipers. We'll be here a couple of days, anyway."  
  
Catching sight of Billy, Kirby waved him over. Judging by the puzzled look on the younger man's face, Billy hadn't been any more successful than the other two. Kirby gave it a shot, anyway. "You find out anything?"  
  
"Second platoon's medic said he saw Caje, Sarge and Doc talking to Barnarbo. You know, the guy from Sgt. Pratt's squad?"  
  
Kirby shifted the BAR yet again and nodded. "Yeah, I've played cards with Barnarbo once or twice. He was probably trying to wheedle a piece of that soap."  
  
Hefting his M-1, Littlejohn checked his watch for the time. "He say where he saw them, Billy?"  
  
"Three streets over, to the north."  
  
Heaving a martyred sigh, Kirby took the lead. "If they're holed up in a hot shower somewhere, hogging that soap, I'll shoot 'em myself."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Slowing to a walk, Doc pressed a hand to his aching side and thought it completely ironic, if not totally in character, that he couldn't find an MP now that he needed one. Not a soul had been by since he'd left Caje and Sgt. Saunders. He was growing more and more concerned about the distant shelling.becoming less distant even though he was getting further away from where he'd left the others. He needed to find help, and find it fast.  
  
Raising a hand to wipe away the sweat dripping down into his eyes, Doc paused and stared at the dirt-covered fingers. He couldn't believe he'd killed a man. Two men. How did the others deal with that day in and day out? Was he so different? Was it this hard for Caje or Kirby or the others, the first time they took a life?  
  
Doc pulled his thoughts away from those questions, wiped his face and started jogging again. He was running out of time. He concentrated, instead, on the rhythm of his pace. Breath in, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three-out, two, three. The pounding of his head echoed the pounding of his feet on the hard dirt, which in turn echoed the thumping of the artillery.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
The medic wasn't the only one becoming concerned about the artillery. As the sound grew steadily closer, Saunders began to give serious thought as to how he would be able to walk and support Caje. If Doc didn't get back before long, Saunders wasn't going to have much choice but to try to move to a safer distance.  
  
"Sounds like it's getting closer, Sarge." Caje's voice was becoming weaker, as the pain climbed to nearly unbearable.  
  
"Don't worry, Caje. Doc'll be back soon. If he could con one ambulance, he can get a second one. At least now he can tell the real reason he needs one."  
  
Smiling weakly, Caje swallowed to try to relieve the dryness in his throat. He was so thirsty. "How d'you suppose he managed to get that thing, anyway?"  
  
"I don't know, but I think Kirby should be glad Doc never plays poker. I do know he didn't get that ambulance legitimately. Not without explaining what was going on, and Hanley would've had that shop surrounded with GIs if Doc had told the truth."  
  
Caje grimaced as he tried to shift his weight without moving his injured leg. He hoped Doc would be back soon. Thinking about the medic, Caje remembered Doc's reaction when he'd mentioned the dead German. "Hey, Sarge? Killing Aptmeyer.it really got to Doc, didn't it?"  
  
With a sigh, Saunders looked over at the still-smoldering ambulance and nodded. "I don't think it's just Aptmeyer, but yeah.it got to him."  
  
"Do you think he did the right thing, by not telling Hanley what was going on?"  
  
"I had to tell Doc to let Hanley know what was happening, but.I was fairly certain he wouldn't. We would've both been dead if he had, and Doc wasn't going to let that happen if he could help it. I was trying to give him a way out."  
  
"He did the right thing, then, because we're both still alive." So far, he didn't add.  
  
Looking off in the direction of the shelling, Saunders frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure Doc sees it that way."  
  
Listening to the rumble of exploding artillery, Caje closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree. "That shelling's really getting closer, Sarge."  
  
"I know, Caje." I know. Once again, Saunders wondered how he'd get Caje out of there. The same 'what if' questions that were running through the mind of his medic, began to run through his own. The sergeant couldn't help but wonder if he could've done anything different that would've changed the outcome. Two dead Germans, himself and Caje wounded, and his medic trying to deal with having taken another man's life.the last, Saunders regretted the most.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Jerking the BAR strap once more in frustration, Kirby shifted his weight and waited impatiently for Billy and Littlejohn to return. They'd split up once more, in order to cover more territory. The longer it took to find the others, the more concerned the three had become.  
  
Jogging over to join the smaller soldier, Littlejohn frowned in confusion. What he'd heard so far just didn't make a whole lot of sense. "You find anything, Kirby?"  
  
"What I found just left me with more questions. You?"  
  
Scratching at the damp hair on the back of his neck, Littlejohn wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Well, I talked to a couple of MPs, and one sergeant said a medic went through the village in an ambulance in such a hurry, he nearly got shot by a sniper instead of waiting for the all-clear. Said the medic had a southern accent, but that's not much to go on. The MP didn't see anyone with him."  
  
"Huh. This just gets stranger and stranger. I caught a guy a few blocks over, said he saw an ambulance a while ago and it looked like it was headed out of town. Said it looked like a medic and a sergeant were up front, the medic drivin'."  
  
Sharing a puzzled look with Kirby, Littlejohn shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense, Kirby. The Sarge wouldn't leave the village like that without checking in with Hanley or the XO."  
  
Kirby shrugged and waved an arm to gesture behind Littlejohn. "Maybe Billy found out something."  
  
If they'd thought that things were strange before, they were in for a surprise. Shaking his head at the question on his friend's face, Billy pushed back his helmet. "Well, one guy told me he saw Doc drive past him in an ambulance, so I went to the motor sergeant to see if he knew why Doc got one. Seems Doc told him Saunders needed a truck. When he couldn't get one, he helped the sergeant out by changing the tire on the ambulance then suggested a test drive. The sergeant said he told Doc he could use the ambulance for whatever Sarge needed it for, before bringing it back. Only, he hasn't brought it back."  
  
Heaving a sigh, arms akimbo, Kirby thought for a moment. "Look, if Doc left the village in an ambulance with two wounded, it must be on orders from a doctor. Let's head over to the aid station and see if they know what's going on."  
  
Falling in behind Kirby, Billy hoped they'd finally find an answer to the mystery. "By the time we finally find out what's going on, Doc, Caje and Sarge will be waiting for us in Hanley's office."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Removing his helmet as he slipped through the door, Kirby couldn't help the slight shudder he felt at being in the aid station. There was always the specter of death lingering nearby. It gave him the willies.  
  
The three soldiers stopped and looked around, trying to find someone who looked to be in charge. Kirby spotted a group near a door to the right and headed toward it, waving for Littlejohn and Billy to follow. As they got closer, they could hear the heated words from the soldier with the tool belt.  
  
"I'm telling you, the sergeant said that building was gonna have to be fumigated 'cause those two guys had meningitis."  
  
Gesturing for the soldier to lower his voice, the doctor nodded his head slightly. "I understand what you're saying, but I'm telling you that we haven't had any cases of meningitis in this village that I know of." Holding up a hand to forestall further argument, the doctor continued. "However, we'll check the place out if you're sure of what you heard."  
  
"I'm sure. How many times do I have to tell you that? They took two guys out of that building, all wrapped up in bandages and told me they had meningitis."  
  
Before the doctor could respond, Kirby joined them and held up a hand. "Wait a second, you said the sergeant and someone else loaded up two guys? Into an ambulance, right?"  
  
Glad to find someone who obviously thought he was telling the truth, the commo man turned to Kirby in relief. "Yeah, a sergeant, a medic and another guy with a bandaged face loaded up two other guys on stretchers into an ambulance and took off. The sergeant told me they'd have to fumigate for meningitis."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"A barber shop, a few blocks over. I'll show you. I sure haven't gotten anywhere here. I think I've talked with everyone from the lowest corpsman on up. That medic is probably half-way to the next town by now."  
  
Slipping his helmet back on, and giving the confused doctor a look of determination, Kirby shifted his BAR with purpose. "Don't worry about it, doc. Whatever's going on, it ain't meningitis. We'll go with him to check it out."  
  
Without bothering to wait for a reply, Kirby gestured for Avery to lead the way. Maybe now they'd finally get some answers. As he fell in step with the commo man, Kirby shot him a few questions.  
  
"What did the sergeant look like?"  
  
"Blond hair, blue eyes."  
  
"Sounds like Saunders, alright. You said he had two guys with him, 'sides the two on the stretcher?"  
  
"Yeah, a medic and another guy. The medic was acting kind of nervous, but I didn't hear a word from the third guy. His face was bandaged, though, so maybe he couldn't talk or something."  
  
Or something. Kirby tried to sort through all the information they'd gathered so far, but none of it made sense. It was obvious that Saunders, Doc and maybe Caje had left the village in an ambulance.but why? Where did they go? Who were the other two guys? By the time they'd reached the barbershop, Kirby hadn't come up with any answers.  
  
Holding up his hand to bring everyone to a stop, Kirby pointed to the left. "Littlejohn, you and Billy circle around back. I'll go in the front. I don't know what's going on here, but better to be careful than dead."  
  
"You got it, Kirby. Shout if you find anything."  
  
"You can take that to the bank."  
  
Once he'd given the others time to circle around, Kirby shot a glance at Avery then stepped quickly to the side of the open door. Raising the BAR, swallowing back the bile that suddenly rose in his throat, Kirby darted through the door. What greeted him didn't bode well for his missing squadmates.  
  
Kirby tore his eyes away from the body of Barnarbo when Littlejohn and Billy burst into the room. "Sarge?"  
  
"Nothing back there but some showers, a tub and small room off to the side that leads to the back. No sign of Sarge or the others." Littlejohn knelt down to take a closer look at the body on the floor. "Looks to me like he was knifed."  
  
"Hey, look what I found."  
  
Recognizing the medical bag Billy held in his hand, Kirby and Littlejohn exchanged worried glances. Kirby was the first to find his voice. "What the hell happened here?"  
  
Shaking his head, Littlejohn stood and took the bag from Billy. "I don't know, but the Lieutenant needs to know what happened. Billy, let the linesman know he doesn't have to worry about meningitis, then stand guard by the door. Kirby, watch the back. I'll go find Lt. Hanley and tell him what we found out."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
Choosing to ignore the sarcasm, Littlejohn nevertheless answered Kirby's question. "Sarge, Caje and Doc left the village.but I don't think it was by choice."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Trying to make sense of what Littlejohn was trying to tell him accomplished nothing but the beginning pressure of a headache. Massaging his forehead with one hand, Lt. Hanley held up his other to stop the flow of words. "Private, this makes less sense, the more you try to explain it."  
  
"I know, Lieutenant, but it seems to be what happened." Littlejohn couldn't quite figure out what had happened either, but was extremely worried for his missing friends. "Sarge, Doc, Caje and two other guys left in an ambulance. Last anyone saw Barnarbo, he was with Sarge and the guys. Now he's dead and they're gone. Lieutenant, we gotta find that ambulance."  
  
Suppressing a sigh with difficulty, Lt. Hanley tapped a pencil on his desk as he ran the 'facts' through his head once more. It still sounded screwy. Dropping the pencil, he reached for the field phone. Someone had to have seen that ambulance leave the village. "Captain Horton. Sir, this is Lieutenant Hanley. I'm trying to find three missing men from my platoon. I'd like to get some information on all ambulances your MP's might've seen leaving the village since this morning. Over. Yes, sir. Okay, thank you, sir. Out."  
  
Lt. Hanley dropped the headset back into its pouch and looked up at Littlejohn, who was frowning with worry. "He'll check around and call me back. It might be a while, Littlejohn. You head back to the barbershop, and I'll round up some men to relieve you and the others. When you're relieved, come back here. I might have a few answers by then."  
  
Raising his hand in a sloppy salute, his heart not in it, Littlejohn turned on his heels and left the office. Using his long legs to good purpose, the big private hurried back to Kirby and Billy. He knew they'd be anxious to know what the Lieutenant had said. Littlejohn would be the first to admit that he was worried. It wasn't like Sgt. Saunders to just disappear without telling anyone. Come to think of it, it wasn't like Caje or Doc either. The three missing men had at least one thing in common.they all possessed a quiet strength. Dependability was another shared trait. Which was why Littlejohn was convinced that his absent comrades hadn't left of their own free will.  
  
Well, that and the dead body of Barnarbo lying on the floor of the barbershop.  
  
"Well, what'd he say?"  
  
Littlejohn slowed his steps and joined the younger man standing nervously by the front door. "He's waiting for word on any ambulances that have left the village today. Someone had to have seen them. If we can get an idea on what direction they headed in, we'll know where to look."  
  
Swinging his foot in angry frustration, all Billy accomplished was stirring up a cloud of dust. He felt so useless. "I'm scared, Littlejohn. If they were okay, they'd be back by now. Or left word where they were going."  
  
"I know, Billy. It isn't like the Sarge to just disappear like that. Listen, Lt. Hanley's going to send some men to take over for us. When he does, we'll go find out if he heard anything."  
  
Twisting his hands around his M1, Billy glanced up and down the street. "I sure hope they hurry. This is driving me crazy."  
  
"Speaking of which, I better go tell Kirby what's going on."  
  
That at least got a small smile from the younger man. But, as Littlejohn turned and walked around the corner to the back, the smile left Billy's face and his thoughts turned dark as the soot that smudged his hands. What are we gonna do if we never find them?  
  
Kirby's thoughts were running down a similar track when the subdued voice of Littlejohn drifted around the corner. "Kirby, it's me."  
  
Lowering his BAR, Kirby's eyes sought the taller man's face. He didn't like what he found. "You didn't bring good news, huh?"  
  
"Maybe. Lt. Hanley's checking to see if anyone saw them leave the village, so we know which direction to look. He's sending some guys to replace us. I guess now we just wait."  
  
"Great." Unknowingly copying Billy, Kirby swung his foot in anger and kicked up a cloud of dirt. "You know if they hadn't found that damn soap, none of this would've happened."  
  
Leaning his back against he rough stones of the little shop, Littlejohn tried not think about the dead man inside. It was funny how something as innocent as a bar of soap, could set such terrible things into motion.  
  
Closing his eyes and laying his head back against the wall, Littlejohn answered his thought out loud. "No, it's not funny at all."  
  
Instinctively knowing Littlejohn was reacting to something he'd been thinking, Kirby kept his comments to himself. They were all on edge. A guy talking to himself didn't seem so out of place, under the circumstances.  
  
The two men simply listened to the distant sounds of war, and kept their thoughts to themselves. It was hard enough admitting to their selves how scared they were for their missing friends, much less admitting it to someone else.  
  
Time seem to stop. Or, at least, crawl as slowly as it could. Just as Kirby's fidgeting was about to push Littlejohn over the edge, Billy came running around the corner. Barely taking the time to announce his presence, the younger man rounded the edge of the building and slid to a less than graceful stop.  
  
"Our replacements are here. Let's go!"  
  
Without bothering to respond, Kirby and Littlejohn took off with Billy on their heels. Ignoring the looks of curiosity cast their way as they sprinted down the streets, the three made it to Lt. Hanley's office in record time.  
  
Starting at the sudden noise as Kirby, Littlejohn and Billy burst through the door, Lt. Hanley drew a deep breath and prepared to tell the others he had no news. He let the air out in a rush at the jingle of the field phone.  
  
"Lt. Hanley. Yes, sir. Over. He did? Where? Over. St. Velaz? No sir, not that I know of. Over. Thank you, sir. You'll let me know the minute you hear anything? Over. Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it. Out."  
  
Looking up into the anxious faces of his men, Lt. Hanley wished he had better news. "Well, an ambulance with a medic, three wounded and a sergeant claiming to be Sgt. Saunders was seen heading for St. Velaz."  
  
"St. Velaz?" Kirby glanced at the others in confusion. "But, that's near the front."  
  
"I'm aware of that, Private. Captain Horton said he'd send a couple of MPs down the road they were last seen taking, to see if they find anything. He'll call me back if.when.they find anything."  
  
"Great, now we wait some more."  
  
"I'm afraid that's all we can do, Kirby. We just have to wait."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
"We have to wait." Settling back down against the tree, Caje panted with the effort of controlling his pain. It was becoming a losing battle, and the failed attempt at standing hadn't helped a bit. "Doc'll come through, Sarge. Just wait."  
  
Saunders could see the misery etched in Caje's face, and regretted the idea of trying to make it back on their own. He should've known it was foolish to even try, but fear breeds desperation. The shelling seemed to be getting closer, and the sergeant was beginning to doubt Doc's ability to get them help in time.  
  
Seeing the doubt and self-recrimination on Saunders' face, Caje took a deep breath and tried again. "Have faith, Sarge."  
  
Have faith. Well, he could try. After all, they weren't dead in a minefield.or prisoners of war, for that matter. Not yet, anyway. "I didn't exactly show him a lot of confidence, did I?"  
  
Startled by the sudden question, Caje momentarily stilled his efforts to get more comfortable. "What do you mean, Sarge?"  
  
Wiping some of the dirt and sweat from his face, Saunders tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "He felt so bad about you getting hurt when he wrecked the ambulance. I didn't exactly sound convincing when I told him he couldn't blame himself."  
  
"We all had a lot on our minds, Sarge. I don't think he would've believed you right then, no matter how convincing you sounded."  
  
"Maybe. I guess I just don't like it when things are out of my control. It should be me out there, looking for help. What if he runs into more Germans? At least I'd have a weapon."  
  
"Maybe he needs this, Sarge. A chance to, in his eyes, make up for what happened." Trying once more to ease the pain in his leg, Caje shifted his weight. It didn't work. Looking over at the sergeant once the world stopped spinning, Caje smiled inwardly at the expression of contemplation on Saunders' face. "Redemption only comes from God and ourselves, Sarge. Coming from anybody else.it's just forgiveness."  
  
Searching Caje's face for anything that resembled blame, Saunders defended the absent medic. "He doesn't need either, Caje."  
  
"You know that, and I know that. But it's what Doc believes that matters."  
  
For a short while the two remained silent, just listening to the booming of not-distant-enough shelling. Caje had almost drifted into an exhausted sleep when he heard the quiet irony of his sergeant's voice.  
  
"I wish I'd never found that damn soap."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Dust puffed up off the road as Doc panted for air. He'd been pushing himself, trying to get as far as possible before having to take a break, when the road and his own weariness betrayed him. He'd stepped too close to the edge of the road, the loose dirt shifted and he'd hit the ground hard enough to drive what air he had left out of his lungs. Doc stared at a small stone a few inches from his nose, as he struggled to control his breathing.  
  
Taking a deep breath, the medic planted his hands and shoved himself to his knees. The ground tilted and swayed for a moment, before settling back down on its axis. Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Doc briefly wondered if it was a result of cracking his head on the windshield, or from pushing himself so hard. Not that it mattered.  
  
Staggering to his feet, Doc took another deep breath and broke into a ragged run. Sarge and Caje were counting on him. He tried to get his rhythm going again, but it was no use. He set his sights on the curve up ahead and promised himself that he'd rest as soon as he rounded that curve.  
  
He hadn't quite made it, when he thought he heard the sound of a jeep. Stumbling to a stop, he braced his hands on his knees and tried to slow his breathing so he could listen. His ears hadn't betrayed him.it was a jeep. And it sounded like it was getting closer.  
  
Stepping over to the edge of the road, praying it was the sound of an American vehicle, Doc nearly melted with relief as the jeep rounded the bend and headed in his direction. His arms felt like lead as he raised them over his head to flag down the two MPs.  
  
When the jeep pulled up to a stop beside him, Doc wasn't exactly surprised when the passenger kept his weapon ready. He was sure their absence had to have been discovered by now. Raising his arms and hooking his hands behind his head, he accomplished two things: help in drawing air into his lungs, and showing the two MP's that he was unarmed and meant no harm.  
  
Furiously chewing the wad of gum in his mouth, the driver looked the medic up and down. "You with Lt. Hanley's platoon?"  
  
Blinking the sweat from his eyes once again, Doc finally managed to get his breathing under control. He coughed the dust from his throat and tried to work a little moisture into his mouth. "Yes. How'd you know?"  
  
The corporal's sun-weathered face wrinkled as he smiled, his Texas accent thick and drawling. "Hell, son, the whole damn village has been lookin' for you."  
  
Not as convinced of the medic's innocence as his partner, the older MP narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Who's your sergeant?"  
  
"Sgt. Saunders. Listen, he and another guy from our squad are hurt pretty bad and the shelling's getting closer. We need to hurry up and get them out of there."  
  
Popping his gum and rolling his eyes at his partner, the corporal waved toward the back of the jeep. "Well quit wastin' time, then. Get in and show me the way. I'd ask ya what the hell's been goin' on, but I figure you'll be answerin' that enough times today as it is."  
  
Grateful for both his help and his understanding, Doc climbed wearily into the back and pointed in the direction from which he'd come. "Up this way. When you see a road to your left, take it."  
  
"You got it, Doc."  
  
Now that he'd acquired the help he'd so desperately needed, Doc found it hard to concentrate. His head throbbed and he'd never been so completely wrung out and exhausted in his life. If Sarge and Caje weren't both still alive, he'd never forgive himself.  
  
He snapped awake when he felt someone nudge his leg, and the memory of his dream swiftly began to fade. Something about pigs, soap, and Caje singing some French song over and over again. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep.  
  
"There're a lot of blown up vehicles around here. Look familiar?"  
  
"We should be close, Corporal. Look for an ambulance.over there. There it is, the one on its side. Sarge and Caje should be just over there."  
  
And, sure enough, they were there. Both moving. Both still alive. With the burden of their lives lifted from his shoulders, Doc found it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. He scrambled from the back of the jeep and led the two MP's to his wounded friends.  
  
Staring at the three men running toward them, Saunders squinted. "Am I seeing things, Caje?"  
  
Despite his pain, Caje smiled in relief. "I knew he'd come through."  
  
"Faith?"  
  
"Faith."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
"They did? When? Over. Thank you, sir. We'll meet them at the aid station. Out."  
  
Happy to be able to give good news, something he hadn't had a lot of faith in being able to do, Lt. Hanley stood and grinned at the three waiting soldiers. "They found them. Injured, apparently, but alive. The MP's will take them straight to the aid station."  
  
"Well, what're we waiting for?" Not sticking around for an answer, Kirby was the first one out the door.  
  
Of course, once they got there, Kirby paced back and forth, waiting for the jeep to arrive.  
  
"You guys hear a jeep?" It was the tenth time that Kirby had asked that question. Lt. Hanley and Billy automatically gave him the same answer they'd given the previous nine times.  
  
"No!"  
  
Pausing a moment, Littlejohn's face split into a smile. "I hear it, too."  
  
When the jeep pulled up next to them, their three friends looked a little worse for the wear, but it was the best thing they'd seen in a long time.  
  
Reaching out to lay his hand on his friend's shoulder, as if seeking reassurance that Saunders was really there, Hanley frowned in concern. "You, my friend, have some serious explaining to do."  
  
Lt. Hanley shifted his gaze to Doc. "And you have even more explaining to do. To a lot of people."  
  
"Lieutenant. Later."  
  
Something in Saunders' voice got Hanley's attention. Something more serious than the obvious had happened that day. His curiosity, and his report, could wait a little while longer. "Let's get you guys inside. We'll get everything straightened out later."  
  
Hanging back as Saunders and Caje were carried into the aid station, Doc snagged Hanley's sleeve. "Lieutenant, Barnarbo."  
  
"I know, Doc. We found him." Looking into the medic's troubled blue eyes, Lt. Hanley asked the first of many questions to come. "Doc, I need to know who killed him."  
  
"A German. I don't know which one. We were taking a shower. Just taking a shower. Doesn't really matter, I guess; Barnarbo's dead, either way. So are they."  
  
Confused and troubled by the medic's answer, Lt. Hanley nevertheless kept further questions to himself. It was obvious Doc was swaying on his feet. Whatever else they needed to know would have to wait for later.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Looking up from his cot, Doc knew he could no longer avoid it. Lt. Hanley had come for some answers. Automatically glancing across the aisle at his sergeant, Doc fervently wished Saunders would wake up and do this for him. Sgt. Saunders didn't stir. Caje was awake, nearby.but Caje hadn't been there. Not when he'd killed a man.  
  
Doc stared at his hands; now clean of the dirt that had been there before. Unable to look Lt. Hanley in the eyes, he listened to the scrape of the wooden chair as the lieutenant moved it closer. The rustle of material announced that Lt. Hanley was now seated and ready to get the full story.  
  
Funny, he'd never really looked at his hands before. Where'd I get that scar? I can't remember...  
  
"Doc."  
  
Brought out of his reverie, Doc took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. "Lieutenant?"  
  
"I need to know what happened."  
  
"I know." Clenching and unclenching his hands for a moment, Doc took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He only wanted to have to tell this once. Picking at the scab on one of his knuckles, Doc told his story.  
  
"Sarge found a cake of French soap. I guess news spread pretty fast."  
  
Uh-huh. Good news travels fast, doesn't it?*  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, Doc chased away that memory. "Anyway, Barnarbo came up and offered to show us where we could take a hot shower, if we'd share our soap. We all agreed, and he took us across the street to the barbershop. You'd think Caje would've seen it."  
  
Doc succeeded in pulling off the scab, and watched in detachment as the small wound began to bleed once more. "Sarge and Caje checked the place out and everything seemed okay. Sarge told Barnarbo to stand watch while the three of us took showers. I.I don't know what happened, but two Germans came in and told us to get out of the shower. He.he asked which was the medic. I told him I was. He told me to get dressed and go find a truck. Sarge told me to tell you what was happening. The German officer told me he'd kill them if I did."  
  
Wiping the blood from his knuckle with the index finger of his other hand, he watched it ooze once more. So much blood.pooling from under Barnarbo's body.  
  
"Barnarbo was dead. I.I saw him there on the floor. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to risk Caje's and Saunders' lives, but Sarge had given me an order. I went to the motor pool, but the sergeant wouldn't give me a truck. I went to see you, but you weren't there. The clerk said we had a new XO and he was by the book. I couldn't risk that, so I left. I thought about stealing a truck, but that didn't work out. So, I went back to the motor pool. I lied to him.I don't even remember what I said.and helped him change the tire. He told me to do whatever Saunders' needed me to do, then bring it back."  
  
Needless to say, he hadn't returned it. "I went back to the barbershop. They had Caje and Sarge all bandaged up and tied. I was scared to death for a minute that the Germans had hurt them while I was gone. It took so long to get an ambulance. I got held up by a sniper."  
  
He was losing track of his thoughts. "Anyway, they had them all bandaged up. The German officer, Aptmeyer, told me to get the stretchers out of the ambulance and bring them inside. He said we'd just drive outside the village and he'd let us go. I guess, deep down, I didn't really believe him."  
  
But he'd wanted to. Oh how he'd wanted to.  
  
"We loaded Caje and Sarge into the back and I drove. I almost got us away from Aptmeyer once, but got stuck in the mud." Doc unconsciously reached up and rubbed the bruise on his collarbone. The German officer hadn't been happy with that little stunt.  
  
"We got closer to the fighting, and Aptmeyer said he'd put us to the use he'd brought us for. I knew he was going to kill us."  
  
So, instead.I killed him.  
  
"He told me to stop, and started to get out. While he was halfway out the door, I hit the gas. I swerved around, trying to shake him off. I lost control, though. Wrecked the ambulance." Things got a little foggy for a few minutes after that.  
  
"Aptmeyer pulled me out of the ambulance, and I thought he was gonna kill me. I remember thinking he might as well. I'd done everything I could, and still hadn't gotten us anywhere."  
  
I didn't accomplish a thing...*  
  
"He dragged his friend out of the back, but he was dead. His neck was broken. I'd killed him when I wrecked the ambulance. I tried to get up and do something while Aptmeyer's back was to me, but I couldn't get my legs to do what my mind was yelling at me to do."  
  
He'd felt so useless. "The ambulance caught on fire. Aptmeyer just stood there. I finally got my body to move and got Caje and Saunders out of there before it exploded. Caje had hurt his leg pretty bad, though. They'd left my bag back at the barbershop, so all I had was some gauze and tape I'd stuck in my pocket that morning. I did what I could, but Caje needed help."  
  
You can thank your medic friend for that.*  
  
"Aptmeyer forced us to walk off and leave Caje. He led us to a minefield and told us to cross it. We refused. He said he'd tell Sarge one more time to go, then shoot him. He told us to push on. We didn't. He shot Saunders. I jumped him. I just wanted to stop him shooting Sarge again. He dropped the gun. We fought. I.I grabbed him by the neck.and I killed him."  
  
And that was it.  
  
Doc wasn't sure if he'd made the right decisions. Though, if he had it to do all over again, he wasn't sure he'd do things differently. Nothing made sense. It was as if one way or another, two men were meant to die that day. He and Saunders.or Aptmeyer and his comrade. His only choice had been which two.  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
When Doc finally heard the question, he was sure it wasn't the first time the Lieutenant had asked it. "What?"  
  
"Throughout the whole thing, what did you do?"  
  
What did he do? "I did what I had to do, to keep Sarge and Caje alive." What else was he going to do?  
  
Whispering, almost as if he was hearing it for the first time, Doc repeated his answer. "I did what I had to do, to keep Sarge and Caje alive."  
  
Meeting Lt. Hanley's eyes for the first time since the lieutenant had sat down, Doc thought he'd lose control of his emotions at the sudden release from despair.  
  
He'd done the right thing. He'd made the right choices.  
  
He hadn't really meant to kill the German officer, but that's what had happened. Would he rather it had been himself? No. Would he rather it was Sarge? No. Then it was something he'd just have to live with.live with and move on.  
  
Unclenching his fists, Doc looked at his fingers as he stretched the ache from them. Long fingers deft at tying bandages, clamping shut bleeders, or simply wiping away a young man's tears of pain.  
  
The only blood he saw on them.was his own.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
END 


End file.
